


Thin Ice

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Age Difference, Drug Abuse, M/M, Rape/Non-con References, Self Harm, Self Loathing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 11:41:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/867139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one has ever wanted you. You hide yourself behind a mask; because it's how you've learned to deal. You need to save yourself.</p><p>---</p><p>You've never wanted anyone so fiercely. You want to pry off that mask and pour his fire into your very soul. You want to save him from himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Comfortably Numb

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've ever posted anywhere so please be gentle.
> 
> This fic does change points of view so look out for that later on. The chapters will mostly be in one characters perspective or the other.
> 
> Please enjoy!
> 
> Also these is heavy drug reference in here and will be further on as well.

It's about five in the afternoon when Rose askes you to get ice cream with her. Rose is fucking lactose intolerant, you know better. You don't speak up. You could really use some time away. She's chattering away on the other side of the line and stops short. "Dave?" It's in that tone that you know leads to trouble. You haven't really been listening and she knows.

You shouldn't go. 

You'll fucking go.

You know this won't be some pointless excursion. She seriously has something on her mind. Something that has to do with you. She sounds concerned. She tells you she'll meet you at your home, but you'll have none of that thank you very much, Rose. "I'll meet you at the store." She laughs ominously. "It was worth a try."

It takes you a total of five minutes to slip on a pair of black skinny jeans and long sleeved white and red shirt. You slide your pre-pay phone into your pocket and slide on a pair of old Vans you bought at a thrift store when you were like fourteen and here you are at seventeen and they still fit. At least you've grown upwards though. You're only a foot shorter than Bro's monsterous 6'6'' frame now. You don't want to dwell on Bro. You worry about him more than is probably healthy. With good reason.

Stop thinking about it.

Your Bro is going to be the death of you.

You'll be the death of you.

==>

Rose will be the death of you.

When you arrive at the ice cream shop by way of bus, she already looks about to murder you with her questions. "When was the last time you ate?"

"Uh. Dunno'. Yesterday at noon maybe?"

"That's unhealthy."

"Everything's unhealthy."

She gives you a disapproving mother look. She buys you a strawberry milkshake and herself a grape slushie. You're past arguing with her on buying. She's the kind of quiet rich person, and does her best to keep the appearance of a normal girl. You understand. You try to keep the appearance of a normal guy.

"What if I wanted something else?" You antagonize.

"You never get anything else."

"Maybe I was going to get something else." You weren't going to get something else. You always get the same thing. It's the same way with a lot of things in your life. Maybe it's time for a change. You should stick with the same. You laugh inwardly- think about what even would you change. What you even could change. You nearly trip over Rose because you're having a fucking existential crisis. She's motioning to the park that you've come across. She asks if you'd like to take a walk through it and you say sure and she looks at you concerned like she can almost tell that the foundation of your fucked up brain house is shaking. And wow that was a really stupid fucking thought.

She leads you to an empty swing set with wooden swings like she knew it was there the whole time. She smiles at you and sits down, motioning to the swing next to her. Stupid Rose. She knows she has you and there ain't no way you can abscond without looking like a huge dick. "So Dave," her voice is soft and melodic. "Tell me about life. What's going on with you and your Brother?"

You shrug your shoulders and let out a quiet sigh. "Could be better."

"Dave." She chides, taking an impatient sip of slushie. Her slight fingers curl around the cup ever so carefully. She looks up at you beneath her long silvery eyelashes. You think how much more beautiful she would be if she didn't wear all that black shit around her eyes. Not that she's not beautiful now. You just wish she could fucking see. You look away and start swinging idly.

"Do you remember when we were kids, Rose?" You ask suddenly. "Bro had just taken me in and he'd bring me to your house because he had no fucking clue what to do with a kid." You lay your head against the chain of the swing and close your eyes. "We used to chase each other around the house and break shit and your mom would just fucking laugh because she's got more money than she knows what to fucking do with-"

"Dave...?"

You're fucking crying now and you have no idea why. But your mouth won't stop. "And then when you'd catch me you'd kiss me because it grossed me the fuck out. And even though you've always been a super lesbian," she laughs softly and rolls her eyes, "you always made me feel important, like you loved me-"

Your babbling is interrupted by the buzzing of your phone. You nearly drop your milkshake. You're afraid. Every fucking time. The text would nearly be unreadable to someone who isn't used to this shit. 'bor neerd yourh elp. come ho me' The pit in your stomach doubles in size and you're about as pale as the styrofoam cup you're holding. You wipe away tears, fresh and old.

"Dave?" Rose asks urgently.

"I have to go." You're already up and nearly running away. It was stupid to come here today. It was stupid to open your fucking mouth.

"Please! Dave!" She's running after you but she's not nearly as quick.

The bus schedule is something you've had memorized since you were like ten years old. If you don't hurry, you'll miss it. You push yourself, and you can see the bus. You see the bus and watch as it pull away. "No!" You shout after it. "No! No! God dammit!" Without thinking, you punch a nearby telephone pole. People are staring so you start running again, sprinting towards home. It's going to be faster than waiting for another bus, but you're going to be exhausted. 

==>

You don't know how long you've been running when you stop, breathless in front of the apartment complex. You still have to climb the fucking million stairs. Can't slow down now. You take the stairs inside two at a time, really hoping you're not going to die. Papers read: 'Boy killed by stairs; it was the last step that killed him'. 

You finally fucking make it and collapse inside the door, huffing and puffing. You're red and sweating and exhausted and you feel like crying.

"B- B- Daaa- vee?"

It's the saddest most strangled cry you've ever heard. You've heard it more times than you'd ever care to. "Bro?" You call hoarsely, you don't expect him to answer. He had sounded close. You nearly pass him, but he makes a little noise as you pass by the kitchen partition. He's sprawled on the floor laying in yellowish vomit. Your voice is almost pitying as you say his name again and kneel next to him. You try not to pull a face but everything about this situation smells horrid.

"I'm so- so sah- ree- Dave..." Bro sobs, sounding like a scolded child. You hush him and pull him up to sit against the cabinets and out of the puke. You know you can't drag him all the way to the bathroom so you get up- against your body's will- and get a cool wet washcloth. You begin the work of stripping his stale clothing. Who knows how long he's been wearing this particular pair of black jeans with the douchey white polo. It has sweatstains and reeks of something sharp and harder than marijuana. Once he's naked, you begin scrubbing him down. "I love you Daaave." He accentuates every syllable. He lays his head on your shoulder as you clean him up. 

"I love you too, Bro." You murmur against the side of his head. He's starting to shake and you figure it's time to just get him in bed. You haul him up by the arms and unceremoniously drag him to the futon where Bro makes a big deal of trying to slide off.

"Hottt."

God he sounds like a fucking child. You have to keep yourself contained. "You'll get sick. Please stay under the blankets, Bro. I'll get you some water okay." He grumbles unintelligibly before nodding. 

Carefully avoiding the mess in the kitchen, you get Bro a glass of water. You watch him drink it and get another, just setting this one on the side table. He's still too awake for you to take off his shades, but you'll take them off when he falls asleep. You quietly mop up the floor until it's back to its usual dingy self, then decide you'll clean yourself up.

You head to the bathroom and skip flipping on the bright flourescent over the sink. Even in the dark, you're sallow cheeked and sort of gaunt. You've never had any extra pounds but this is really thin even for you. You run your fingers over your skin lightly, you're all bruises and cuts and scratches you don't know where they all come from. Thinking back to Rose, you see why she looked so worried. Bro is in the other room tossing and turning. You stare into the mirror and think about the life you've had. The life he's had. The burden you've become on him. It's too much- It's too much and you don't want to think about it. 

It's time for a change.

You know about the pills. The pills in the medicine cabinet. The ones he keeps to calm his shit down. You've considered taking them before many times. You pop open the medicine cabinet curiously. There are several non-descript bottles that you open and inspect until you recognize one, and then another of the pills by the names on them. One is a little white pill with the word VALIUM printed in neat little letters. The other is orange-ish and eliptical with the word PERCOCET on one side. There's another bottle in the back that the label is not totally peeled off. There's a phony name and beneath it the words OxyCODONE. You consider taking one and decide against it. Two pills of unknown origin and strength should be enough to put you in a good place. You down the Percocet and Valium before you have time to think it over. Wash it down with a handful of water. 

Slowly, you let out a breath and go back into the living room. Bro is already snoring. Smiling faintly, you remove his shades and set them on the table. He looks so much older than you remember. The dark circles and crows feet. This is what you've done. You've driven him to this. He never wanted you.

You're feeling weird by the time you get back to your room. Not happy. Not sad.

Not anything.

Not even numb.

Just empty.

And maybe a little cold.

It's comforting.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A first encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick update. Wanted to get Dadbert introduced. Enjoy!

You are a simple man.

Life asks many things from you.

You do not ask many things from life. 

To some you are 'mundane', 'boring', or 'weird'- as perhaps one of your son's friends might say.

You prefer to stay out of any sort of limelight.

You avoid confrontation as much as you might.

You are good to others and are rewarded in turn by being left to your own little bubble in life.

That is what you prefer. 

==>

At six AM- as always- you make yourself get out of bed so you can shower, shave, have breakfast, and get John to school by eight. Showering and shaving is about the easiest part of this routine. "John. How many times have I told you to pick up these socks?" You call, plucking them from where they're strewn on the living room floor. "John?" You let out an exasperated sigh. "John Egbert you had better be up!" Some drowsy reply floats down the stairs, but you had better go make sure his butt is out of bed. As always you give three raps on the door and let yourself in only to be bombarded by a plethora of feathers.

John jumps out of his bed and laughs. He's already completely dressed. "Oh man, dad! I can't believe you fell for that!" He crows, howling in laughter.

He has the same spirit your mother did.

You'll have feathers in your hair and mouth for the rest of the day.

You don't mind.

"Breakfast is ready, John." It only comes out stern through great efforts, you're trying not to laugh. John dissolves into laughter at this and takes you along with him. He follows you downstairs where you've prepared a bagel with butter and cream cheese for both of you. He eats his with a sort of childlike vigor while you simply take small methodical bites. John has always been the fire in your life that you've needed to keep going. Without him things seem dim and gray. Nothing really matters without him. You don't know what you'll do when he moves off to college next fall. Actually you do. You'll keep existing. Existing in a permanent gray state. Cheering yourself up for phone calls and coming back to life only when John comes to visit.

You're not sure how often that will actually be. You know he's got his sights set in California, attracted by the siren song of fame and the lull of warm sandy beaches. 

"Dad?"

It becomes apparent that John has asked you a question.

"What was that?" You laugh good naturedly, looking him over, it looks like he's reluctant to ask again. "Just old age, can't hear as well." You give him a wink to try to ease him.

"Are we still visiting SDSU soon?"

"I don't know about soon, John, but we will. I promise." He grins and bounces over to hug you.

"I can probably get a scholarship there if I work hard enough!"

"I am so proud of you." He's grown so much. And you are so proud of him. Graduating a year early and nearly at the top of his class. Your John will do something great with his life. Needless to say, he is the very opposite of you, he is everything you wish you could have been. This boy you have poured all your love into will soon be moving on to his own life. You are afraid. John accuses you of crying and being a sappy old man. "Old men like me are allowed to be sappy." You sniff, waving your hand.

"It's time for school anyway. Do you have everything? Breakfast finished? Teeth brushed."

"You're getting sappy again."

Rolling your eyes good naturedly, you grab your briefcase and lead John to the car. You both get in and buckle your seat belts. You admire your son in his jeans and the tidy way his button up shirt is tucked into them. A smile lights your lips as you pull out of the driveway. You can't help thinking that this will be a good year despite everything. 

==>

At first you're sure it's a ghost.

"Dad!" John shouts and you stomp on the brakes.

It's too late, you think, you've hit them.

The startlingly thin form leans against the front of your car as you get out.

"Oh my goodness. I am so sorry- I wasn't- I didn't see you-"

"'t's my bad." The boys words are mumbled and a little slurred. It's a little hard to understand his speech because of this and the fact that he seems to have a southern drawl. He avoids eye contact with you and seems to be searching for something on the ground. You pick up the pair of sunglasses that apparently were knocked from his face on collision and hold them out to him.

"Are you okay?"

"Shouldn't'a tried to cross. I'm sorry." It's like he's trying to pull himself together.

He keeps apologizing but it was your fault, you thought you were seeing things. Your eyes only meet for a second as he takes his glasses but you are startled. His eyes are a bright maraschino red. It's hauntingly beautiful. You notice how slender and pale he is. He could be a model. A foreign beauty from some Scandinavian country. Every feature is sharp and cuts you to the bone. You are also very aware of how overly thin he is, how bruised he looks. It's nearing the end of october but he's just wearing this thin long sleeve shirt. He looks so cold. John is out of the car by now and chattering away nervously.

"Dude are you okay? I've never seen you before. But this is my dad and I think he's a little loopy this morning because I'm like graduating early. But like nothing's broken right? I don't really want to be known as the guy whose dad like ruined someone's life-"

"'M fine." He slides his glasses back onto his face and looks at John. "Seriously. Don't worry about it."

"John Egbert. And this is my Dad. Everyone just calls him Dad." John grins and holds out his hand, he's always been a little oblivious. Everything about this boy sends your dad instincts into overdrive, but you have to resist. You watch John as he does what he's best at, making people smile with his goofy antics.

"Dave. Dave Strider." His accent is completely gone, but he's still slurring.

"Dude did you just introduce yourself like some James Bond character?" John laughs and Dave kind of snickers warily. "Want to walk the rest of the way to school?"

"No, no. The least I could do is give you two a ride. Goodness."

Behind his dark glasses you can feel Dave's suspicion. 

"I can walk s'okay." Dave shrugs one slight shoulder and looks at John. "If you want to join I guess you can." He gives a last look at you. "Later Mr. Egbert."

"Bye Dad!" 

"Wai- John-" You sigh as you watch John skip ahead, a limping Dave in tow.

==>

The rest of the day you are seemingly mesmerized by the thin boy with the shock of nearly white hair. The slight brush of his fingers as you handed him his glasses. The way his clothes were at least two sizes two big. You are captivated by the memory of cherry eyes and their strange ethereal glow.You find yourself hoping he and John will become friends so your can learn more about him. But that would be very inappropriate. 

You scrub the thought from your mind and continue to focus on the daily grind.

You will not go prying. You have never been a prying man and you will not start. 

You will keep to your own little sphere in life. 

That is the way you prefer it.


End file.
